


Sentence Prompt Answers

by Kat_Greenleaf



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 30's steve and bucky, Alternate Universe - Police, Angst, Birthday, Brief mention of hate crimes, Bruce Banner Feels, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky knows, Dancing, Hela is not a bad guy - probably, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, I actually really love Wanda/Vision and I really hope I did them justice, In a way, James is a sweetheart, Lab Accidents, Monopoly ruins friendships, Most of the time, Multi, Nat doesn’t like when people fuss, Natasha Romanoff Feels, Natasha Romanoff is a Good Bro, Natasha is a sneaky spy, Nightmares, Possible Infinty War Spoilers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Sam can’t handle his own feelings, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Should Know Better, Steve/Bucky/Nat/Steve housesharing, Sweet Vision (Marvel), The Ice (tm), Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, and it really pisses Bucky off, bucky's a mama bear, but he won’t press, but not really, but she really knows how to push Steve’s buttons, but she wanted it so bad, cross-dressing, except for when he will, he wants to take care of his best gal, how vision learned to change his face, never autopilot on a mission, oof it's all jane's fault, sam appreciates his efforts, sam kinda has to face it at that point, sif and thor were never gonna be a thing, spoilers for Infinity War, steve gets into a lot of fights, steve rogers is still recovering, steve's dreams are rarely nice to him, the end of Infinity War, tony doesn't sleep enough, wanda and vision hiding out and being cute, “Aunt Peggy”
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-05-08 14:42:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 18,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14696310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Greenleaf/pseuds/Kat_Greenleaf
Summary: I have a list of prompts, mostly angst (oops), and here is where I'm going to put my answers to all of them. Updates will probably not be regular. I will add tags as I need.





	1. "Please, don't leave."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has many fears that he keeps repressed, which manifest in his nightmares.

Steve trudged back into the apartment, groaning softly as the muscles in his legs pulled uncomfortably. He wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep off the last 36 hours. He tossed his shield into his closet and then laid down, uncaring that Sam would probably yell at him in the morning for getting grime all over the sheets. It wouldn’t matter, though, not really. Steve would do the laundry and make him and Bucky breakfast, and it would be fine. 

He was asleep moments later. When he woke, he was still alone, still flopped out on the bed. Still grimy. The room? Undisturbed. And Steve was starting to wonder where Sam and Bucky were. Usually, they slept right beside him, but neither one seemed to even be in the apartment. He couldn’t hear them; their footsteps or breathing. No movement anywhere. 

He pulled himself up off the bed, the soreness gone. The serum was doing its job. He stripped out of his suit and showered, keeping an ear out for anyone moving around the apartment. Even as he toweled off, there was still no sound.

His footfalls were silent against the carpet as he walked back into the bedroom, pulling on an undershirt and a pair of sweatpants. He noticed, though, that the dresser seemed emptier than usual. Maybe Sam or Bucky were doing their laundry this morning? They could be in the laundry room, elsewhere in the Tower. That would make sense. The thought certainly eased the knot forming in his stomach.

“JARVIS,” Steve called, “please, let Sam and Buck know that I’m waiting for them.”

Usually, JARVIS would answer, and Steve would be told approximately when the two would be arriving. But there was no reply. 

“JARVIS?”

Nothing. 

Steve swallowed hard as the knots in his stomach tightened again. “J?” He headed for the elevator and pressed the button. It opened easily for him and he got in, taking it down to the common floor. Maybe there was someone else he could talk to, Nat and Clint asleep on the couch together after a movie or something. No one was down there, either. 

He scoured the level thoroughly, checking every room, every closet, every crevice. 

He took the elevator down further to the lab levels, running - sprinting - through each floor hoping to find Tony or Bruce, or maybe one of the many Stark Industries employees that should have been working, or just getting into work. No one. Nothing. No thrum of machinery. 

Panic started to set it, gripping at his chest and clawing into his lungs. He heaved in air as he tore open the door to the emergency staircase. He ran down the stairs, two at a time, until he reached the ground floor. He ran to the entrance doors and tried to pull it open. 

It wouldn’t budge. 

He yanked at it again. And again. And again. Nothing. 

Nothing. 

_ Nothing. _

He stared out at the street. People were moving along walking and talking and smiling at each other. He sighed in relief, even if his stomach wouldn’t relax, and started to pound on the door, hoping to get someone’s attention. No one looked his way. He pounded harder. No one’s heads even twitched in his direction. The people that did face the doors seemed to look straight through him. He sobbed and pounded at the glass, frustrated that it wouldn’t so much as crack. 

“Help me!” he cried. “Let me out!”

He kicked the door, hoping it would help, and when his foot landed back on the floor, a small splash reached his ears. It didn’t register for a moment, and he took another step, made another splash. He looked down, frowning, and saw a small puddle of water under his feet. He took a step back, away from the puddle, but it followed him, growing larger. He watched in horror as it widened, reaching each corner of the room before starting to fill, slowly. It reached his ankles, and he was starting to realize its temperature - ice cold. He shivered and ran towards the door again. The water had suddenly risen, reaching above his knees as he tried to run. He reached the doors again and started to pound, to try to kick, to do anything to escape. The door wouldn’t budge, and it was harder and harder to keep his feet on the ground as the water rose to his neck, slowing his arms and choking him with its ice. He swam up with the water as long as he could, trying to keep his mouth and nose above it, shivering and screaming for help. 

It soon overtook him, and he swam back down to the door, desperately trying to pull it open. He could see the team. They were standing on the sidewalk outside the building. He pounded and shouted, trying to get their attention, but they didn’t notice. They were focused on each other, laughing and talking. Hugging and touching. Sam and Bucky’s arms were around each other. Sam leaned over to kiss Bucky’s cheek. 

Immediately, a current ripped him away from the door, tearing a scream from his throat. The team faded from view and the world around him became darker, colder. He shivered and drew a breath. Water flooded his lungs and he gagged, writhing and turning over and over in the water, reaching out but finding nothing to grab. A weight settled on him, and he was pushed down. Down, down, down. Ice threaded through his veins, chiling him from the inside out. His lungs felt like blocks of ice, weighing him down and furthering his body’s shutdown. 

A hand landed on his shoulder, searing his frozen skin. He screamed, his lungs bursting and he jerked up. He rolled away from the touch and fell onto something solid. 

The air wasn’t cold. His own harsh breathing echoed in his ears. He trembled and choked down sobs, eyes shut tight as his fingers gripped and tore the carpet beneath him. The rip of fabric grounded him enough that he could open his eyes. He stared at the rent carpet, still clutched in his hands. After a few moments, he could hear the breaths of two others. His head tilted slightly in that direction, but he couldn’t make himself look up. Someone knelt in front of him, and two dark brown, warm hands cupped his cheeks. His breath left him all at once and he leaned into the touch, eyes closing again. 

“S-Sam…” 

“I’m here, baby,” he murmured. 

Sam pulled Steve closer, helping him up onto the bed and cradling him to his chest, gently rubbing his back and petting his hair. Steve trembled against him, tears slipping as his breath shook. 

“Buck?” he whispered, afraid to open his eyes. 

A colder arm wrapped around Steve’s middle, but it filled him with warmth instead of chilling him. Warm lips pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, stubble gently scratching the skin. 

“Right here, Stevie.”

Steve sobbed once, and reached back to hold him closer, clinging to Sam’s shirt with his other hand. “Please,” he whimpered, “Please, don’t leave…”

“We’re not goin’ anywhere,” Bucky assured him. “Right, Sammy?”

“Right.” Sam pressed a soft kiss to Steve’s forehead. “We’ve got you.”

Steve nodded, even as he cried, letting them wrap themselves around him, surrounding him and keeping him safe and warm.


	2. "Tell me how you really feel -- don’t hold back.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you just need an honest opinion.   
> (This one's pretty short, guys, bear with me.)

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure. Stop asking. What’s wrong with you?”

“I just… I feel like it makes me look… fat.”

“There is no way in the world that dress could possibly make you look fat. You look fine.”

“But I mean… It doesn’t quite feel like it fits quite right.”

“Are you still going on about this? Seriously.”

He sighed, “Natasha, c’mon… Tell me how you really feel -- don’t hold back.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “Clint, the dress is fine. I was skeptical about you wearing it to the costume party, but it fits you well, and it actually doesn’t look half bad. But if you sit here and keep bitching about how you think it looks, I’m going to castrate you. Knock it off. You look fine.”

He stared at her a moment and then nodded. “Alright. Yep, okay, got it. I’ll shut up.”

There was a small length of silence. 

“Thanks, Nat.”

“You’re welcome.”   



	3. “You shouldn’t be here.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has bad nights sometimes.

Bucky trembled, curled up tight in the corner of his room, his bed tipped up and dragged over to shield him from the door. Nightmares were common for him, but this one had been the worst in a long while. Hydra agents coming at him from all angles, shouting “traitor” at him and shooting him down like a rabid dog. He sobbed to think about it.

“Time,” he said to the empty room. 

“One thirty-seven A.M., Sergeant Barnes,” JARVIS answered, volume lowered so as not to startle the panicking man. 

Bucky nodded and curled tighter on himself, trying to make himself stop shaking. 

Only a few minutes passed by after that before the door to the bedroom opened, slowly and loudly. Steps could be heard entering the room, and Bucky could hear them breathing, too. This was all a farce, obviously, because no one he knew that could get into his room would ever walk or breathe that heavily. Even this man. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Bucky rasped, pressed back further in his corner. 

The other sat down on the opposite side of the bed, not even looking over it to see Bucky, and leaned, just slightly, against it. 

“I know,” Steve whispered, gently. “But I didn’t want you to be alone.”

Bucky whimpered and hid his face against his knees, even if Steve couldn’t see him. The room was silent much longer this time, save for Steve’s loud, steady breathing on the other side of the bed. Bucky eventually found it in him to call out again:

“Time.”

“Three thirty-four A.M., Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky shivered and took a deep breath before starting to stand. When he looked over the top of his bed, he could see Steve, back to him, leaning half on the wall and half against the bed, sleeping soundly. His neck was tipped at a painful looking angle and Bucky made up his mind. He jumped quickly over the bed and knelt next to Steve, gently pulling him into his arms and laying down with him, pillowing Steve’s head on his chest. 

The big blond curled closer, arms wrapping tight around Bucky, one leg looping over his waist. Bucky huffed, softly. 

“Punk.” 

He held him close though, and let himself drift off again, safe in Steve’s arms.


	4. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hydra is their usual evil selves, but this time they cause more damage than will be easily repaired.

Steve trembled in the corner of the cell, curled up as tightly as he could manage. The concrete of the back wall dug into his left side, and the bars that made up the wall of his cell and the next dug into his right. Not that there was much to dig into. He was all skin and bones. Somehow, Hydra had figured out how to reverse-engineer the serum with the few notes they’d collected over the decades.  He pulled his uniform tighter around himself. At least they’d tossed it in. There had been laughter when they’d thrown it in, as if to mock his new (old?) stature, but he didn’t care. Tony had made him this suit, and it was sure to be warm. 

Which would have worked if the Hydra base wasn’t in northern Russia with temperatures below zero. Every hour or so, a guard would pass by, dressed in a coat or snowsuit, and Steve would shiver more, involuntarily, making the guard laugh. 

He hated this. He hated it so much.

He could hear another guard coming down the hall, and Steve looked down, ignoring the man, not wanting to see the mocking smirk on his face. But the man didn’t just pass him by like they usually did. He stopped in front of the cell and started to unlock the door. Steve started shivering for a different reason besides the cold. The man strode in and hauled him up, holding him tight despite Steve’s struggling.

“It’s time,  _ Captain _ ,” he taunted. 

He dragged Steve down a series of dark hallways, twisting and turning so many times that Steve could hardly remember which way was right or left. He was dragged into a lab and strapped down to a large chair. He whimpered as the arms of the chair closed down over his whole forearms. Scientists milled around the room, unbothered and apathetic. A couple came over to check Steve’s bonds, skillfully dodging his kicks and avoiding his bites. He only received a few slaps across the face for his trouble. 

They went back to their stations, still apathetic, and started pressing some buttons, typing in what looked like passwords.

The chair started to move, tipping back and lowering two arms that fit around his head. He suddenly remembered what Bucky had told him, about the chair they used to wipe his memories. Electricity jolted through his head, making his body jerk and convulse as much as it could manage, held down as it was. His mouth opened in a silent scream and tears leaked from his eyes. The guards were smirking at him, so he closed his eyes, trying to forget them. 

Faintly, he heard a crash, and then the pain in his head abruptly stopped. There were more crashes, and there was yelling, but Steve couldn’t bear to open his eyes. He didn’t know what could possibly be making the crashing sounds. Bucky wasn’t strong enough to break such a powerful machine. And he was sure that the Commandos would have to use something larger than they could bring on a stealth mission. Even something made by Howard. Something was prying the metal arms away from his head. He heard someone calling his name, but it wasn’t a voice he recognized. He opened his eyes after a moment, though, because the man did sound panicked. 

Worried brown eyes stared down at him from a very panicked face. 

“Howard?” he croaked. But he knew that was wrong even before he’d said it. The two were similar in face, but this wasn’t him. Maybe Howard had a brother he’d never told Steve about?

The man’s face fell far too much for that to be the case.

“Steve, no… No, it’s me. It’s Tony.”

Steve was trembling, body aching, his head pounding… he didn’t know a Tony. He shook his head, but that made it hurt more. “I don’t… are you…”

Tony’s eyes closed and the started to shake, obviously upset. “Damn it! This shouldn’t have happened. This never should have…” He took a deep breath and stood straight before ripping away the bonds around Steve’s arms. Steve glanced down at them and frowned when he realized he was back to his old self. 

_ Is it permanent? _

_ So far. _

He supposed it wasn’t permanent after all. 

Tony backed away from Steve, looking more regretful than Steve had ever seen anyone.

“I’m going to go get Barnes.”

Steve watched him disappear, and then took a few minutes to breathe before sitting up. He frowned at the huge uniform draping over his body. It wasn’t army issue, so where had he gotten it?

He looked up as Tony walked back in with… Bucky? The man looked like him. But his hair was too long, and he had a beard and was wearing all black leather… and had a metal arm. Steve’s eyes widened, “Buck, what the hell happened?”

But Bucky’s eyes were fixed on the chair, horror seizing his whole body. “Stark… That’s… that’s… They used…” Bucky turned on his heel and ran into the hallway, where Steve could hear him retching. He stared at Tony and something inside of him ached inexplicably when the man turned away. He looked around the room, then at himself, and could only think:

What the hell?


	5. “This was a mistake.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small continuation of that Bruce and Natasha scene from Infinity War. You don’t have to read this if you’re worried about spoilers.

Bruce stared at Natasha across the room, but couldn’t make himself move any closer. She looked different. Her hair was white now, but she just looked tired. He supposed he looked pretty ragged himself. 

Steve decided that they needed to go to Wakanda, and most everyone filed out to get their things together or refuel the Quinjet. Bruce ducked away to go down to Tony’s labs. If he couldn’t get the Hulk to come out, he was going to need something  stronger than just himself. He was opening the doors to get to the Hulkbuster when he noticed someone out of the corner of his eye. He turned and there was Natasha. 

“Hey. We should talk.”

“This was a mistake,” he blurted. He felt his face heat up and he ducked his head. “Sorry, I… Natasha, so much has changed and-”

She put a hand over his mouth, “Stop. Don’t ramble to me.” She pulled her hand away, her face turning carefully blank. “I know things are different. I know you don’t feel that way anymore.” She took a deep breath and then leaned in to kiss his cheek, gently. “I just wanted to make sure. And… And I wanted to thank you. For caring. Even if we didn’t know each other that well. You’re sweet, and you deserve better.” She gave him a smile and turned to go.

Bruce caught her arm, though, and pulled her back to give her a gentle hug. Natasha was stiff, but relaxed into it after a moment. She rubbed his back. 

“Thank you, Natasha. I’m sorry it didn’t work.”

She smiled and kissed his cheek again. “I’m just glad you’re back.”


	6. “I don’t want anyone besides you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Civil War, our lovers have to find a way to carry on, or move on.

“Vision,” she breathed. “Vis, you can’t be here.” 

He shook his head, reaching for her hand. “I’m exactly where I need to be, Wanda. Please, let’s at least talk.”

She shifted on her feet and then stepped aside to let him into her small apartment. He passed her into the room and took a deep breath, looking the place over.

“It’s so empty…”

Wanda shrugged, “It’s just a place to be. To get away and hide.”

Vision pulled her close, frowning a little, “Have they-”

“They haven’t done anything to me,” she placated, quickly, her hands resting on his shoulders. “I told them I needed time, and they are giving it to me… I need to check in, but I am otherwise on my own here. That is how it should be, Vis. You need to go back home.

“The compound is not my home. People say home is where the heart it.”

Wanda started to pull away. “Then go and find a place where you can find your heart.”

He shook his head and pulled her closer, “It’s here, Wanda. I don’t want to be anywhere else. I don’t want anyone besides you.”

Wanda stared up at him, bottom lip starting to tremble. “Vis…”

“I’m staying,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “I’m staying with you.”


	7. “You make my heart ache.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is in a relationship with the Prince of Asgard. But Thor tends to come and go, and that can be upsetting.

Steve stood by the windows, watching the sky. It would be soon, he thought. Thor had sent a message, saying he would be making another visit. At the time, it had been wonderful news, and Steve had been over the moon as he cleaned up his apartment. But it was starting to happen again. Whenever he thought about it, he started to hurt. It wasn’t sharp pain, and it wasn’t even obvious at first. But it would take him over and he found himself more sluggish, more apathetic and introverted. 

America and Kate tried to keep him going when it got like that. They would drag him down to the gym to spar, or take him for a run or out to lunch. Sometimes, he’d go see Tony or Bruce, and they’d talk about anything. At least, anything besides the depression gnawing at his chest. 

He worried. That was most of it. He was afraid that the next time Thor went back to Asgard, the next time he left Steve, that would be it. He’d never see Thor again. Each time Thor assured him that this was ridiculous, but Steve could never shake the feeling. 

Now, he watched as the Bifrost opened in the parking lot beside his building. Thor looked around once the bridge left, and grinned, waving, when he spotted Steve watching from the window. Steve forced a smile onto his face and waved back. Thor laughed and started to head for the front of the building. 

Steve took a deep breath and backed away from the window, pulling food out of the fridge to set out on the table. They always ate together, first, since Steve’s appetite was almost never sated, and Thor’s stomach was a bottomless pit. He turned around, smiling again as the door opened and Thor walked in. Thor scooped him up and kissed him soundly, a greeting that had taken Steve a while to get used to, but one that he loved all the same. As they parted, he found that his smile was a little more genuine.  

“Welcome back,” Steve murmured, their foreheads pressed together. 

Thor kissed him again, more gently, “It is good to be home with you, Steven.”

They sat on the couch, cuddling close and shoving food in their faces. Steve had put in  _ Some Like it Hot _ . It was one of the movies Steve found he really enjoyed from the 50s, and Thor thought it was hilarious for a multitude of reasons. But not even halfway through, Steve found himself distracted. He was curled up to Thor, head resting on his chest. He wrapped his arms around him, holding close as he kept his eyes forward, trying to seem like he was at least paying some attention to the film. He couldn’t help but be aware of how close he and Thor were. 

He didn’t want to be aware of anything else. He kept his head resting on the larger man’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. He closed his eyes, sighing contentedly, and relaxing further. The next thing he knew, Thor was gently shaking him awake. The movie credits were rolling and the sun was slanting through the window at a new angle. 

“Steven, are you well, my love?” Thor asked, softly, petting Steve’s hair. 

Steve nodded, “I’m fine. Just comfortable.” 

Thor nodded and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Steve’s lips. “Good,” he rumbled. 

Air caught in Steve’s chest and he pressed up, kissing Thor harder, a hand gripping the back of his neck, a little desperately, to keep him close. Thor pulled back anyways, frowning a little and looking down at Steve, concerned. 

“What’s the matter, Steven?”

Steve’s mind blanked and he stared up at him silently for a few moments. “N-Nothing.”

But Thor was shaking his head. “No, it is not ‘nothing’. You’ve done this every visit. For the past year, every time I return, you cling for the first and last few days, as though I’m going to disappear forever.” Steve swallowed and ducked his head. Thor’s large hand cupped his cheek and tipped his face back up. “You don’t really think that, do you?” He sounded so heartbroken, that Steve could even imagine he was leaving, and Steve had to rush to explain himself. 

“No! No, I just… I’m glad to see you and.. And I hate to see you go, but I know… I know you’ll…” He stopped, realizing that rambling would do him no favors if it wasn’t convincing, and that he couldn’t keep this held up inside any longer. Thor needed to know. 

He floundered for words a minute, but then blurted, “You make my heart ache.” Thor’s expression turned shocked, and even a little hurt, but Steve barreled on. “And it’s not that I don’t love you, because I do. So much. So, so much.” He sucked in a breath. “But you leave. So often. For so long. And I… I’m afraid tha-that one day you’ll just… stop returning to me. And I can’t… I couldn’t deal with that, Thor. And it hurts so much to think about. And I can’t stop imagining it.” Tears started to pool in his eyes, and Thor pressed a hand over his lips, leaning in to press gentle kisses to his forehead and cheeks. 

“I would never abandon you, Steven,” he murmured, voice thick. “I do not what what I have done to cause this doubt in you that I would return, but I would have it stop immediately.” He took his hand away and kissed him, gentle but deep and firm. “I love you,” he whispered, so much conviction in his voice that it made tears slip from Steve’s eyes as his body trembled. “And I am always going to return to you, my darling. I swear it.”

Steve nodded, not trusting his voice, and pulled Thor back for another kiss. They lounged there on the couch a while longer, just kissing. And Steve finally found voice enough to murmured back, “I love you, too.”


	8. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony decides to help Steve out, taking him to visit an old friend.

Tony watched on the monitors as Steve spent another night in the gym, pummeling a few more punching bags. There were less broken bags than normal, and one might say that was a sign of progress. But Tony had been upgrading the bags every time he had to order more. Steve broke yet another bag, and Tony sighed. He turned off the screens and swiveled his chair around in circles as he tried to think. Steve was in a slump. And, well, who wouldn’t be after waking up seventy years into the future without anyone you loved. 

Well, actually, some of those people were still alive. Tony had grown up around some of those people. And, to his knowledge, Steve hadn’t gone to see any of them yet. Which was a little disappointing, to say the least. Aunt Peggy would love to see him again. Her dementia was getting worse, little by little. But there was no way that she wouldn’t recognize Steve…

Tony was in the elevator heading down to the gym before he realized what he was doing. When he exited, Steve turned from where he was beating up a new bag. He frowned and didn’t let down his defensive stance.

“Stark.”

“Rogers. You’ve been down here an awfully long time.”

Steve huffed and started to turn back around, “Right. And your point? You spend days down in your lab.”

Tony frowned, “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Steve turned to face him then, frowning. “What did you mean, then, huh?”

Tony put his hands up in front of himself, “Hey, chill out. I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

It was like someone flipped a switch, Steve turning embarrassed and ducking his head. “Sorry. I just… I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Tony shook his head. “It’s too late for that. But I didn’t come down here to harp on you about your habits.” He walked over and slung his arm around Steve’s shoulders, leading him out of the gym. “You’ve been unfrozen for quite a while and, frankly, I think it’s ridiculous that you haven’t even called Aunt Peggy yet. So I’m taking you to see her.”

Steve was staring at him, eyes wide, not saying anything. But he was still walking with him, so Tony took advantage, leading Steve down to the garage. By the time they got to Tony’s car. Steve seemed to have found his voice again. 

“I can go like this… I haven’t showered…”

Tony waved his hand. “Nah, don’t worry. Aunt Peggy won’t care. It’s you, Cap.”

Steve reluctantly got in the car and buckled in. Tony got in the driver’s seat and pulled out of the garage, quickly getting into the street. They were halfway to the retirement centre before Steve spoke again. 

“A-Aunt Peggy?”

Oh. Right. “Yeah, Steve. She was around for me, even when Howard wasn’t. Aunt Peggy, Aunt Angie, Jarvis… They were more family than my parents ever were.” He glanced over at Steve. “Aunt Peggy told me better stories about you than Howard ever would.”

Steve looked down at his lap, and Tony focused back on the road. He pulled into the parking lot and led Steve inside, keeping a hand on his back the whole way. The receptionist just smiled at them and waved for them to go ahead. Tony led Steve down several hallways, and then knocked on a closed door before cracking it open and peeking in. 

“Aunt Peggy?”

Peggy looked over at him, and smiled, “Anthony! You’ve come back! I was hoping I’d see you soon.” 

He smiled and came in just a little, not opening the door all the way yet. “I know it’s been a while. But I brought a surprise.” At her raised eyebrow, he continued. “I’ve brought a friend to see you.”

She frowned, getting up and using her cane to start crossing the room, “Is that what you’re hiding in the hallway? Don’t be rude, Anthony, open the door.” 

He hurried to stop her, leading her carefully back to her chair. “You’ll wanna sit for this, trust me.”

She gave him a look, but sat back down. “Well… I’m waiting.”

Tony nodded jogging back to the door and peeking into the hallway. Steve was still there, but he looked so nervous. Tony reached out to give his hand a squeeze. “Hey, it’ll be just fine. C’mon in.”

Steve nodded a little and took a deep breath, following Tony into the room as he opened the door wider. Tony shut the door behind him. Peggy’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open at the sight of Steve. 

Steve swallowed hard and gave her a small, nervous smile. “Hi, Peg.”

Her eyes watered and she reached a hand out to him. “Steve?”

Tony just stood back as Steve hurried forward, gently taking her delicate hand in his two large ones, kissing the back of it and then her palm and her fingers. Tony could see him shaking from across the room. Peggy set her cane aside and reached to cup his cheek. 

“Darling-”

“I’m sorry,” Steve choked out, voice painfully thick. “I’m sorry, Peg. So, so sorry.”

She just shook her head, leaning down to kiss his forehead, her own voice tearful, “Oh, darling, don’t be sorry. Don’t be sorry, Steve. Come here. Come here.”

She wrapped her arms around him tightly, and he held her back, careful of his strength. He ducked his head, forehead resting against her shoulder. Tony could hear him begin to sob, and quickly, quietly, stepped out into the hallway, letting them have time alone. 

It was hours later when Steve finally came back out of the room, closing the door silently behind himself. Tony was sitting on the floor across the hall from the door, doing work on his tablet. Steve winced a little as Tony stood up.

“Have you been out here this whole time?” Steve asked, voice rough.

Tony shrugged, “It's quiet here. I got some work done.” He put a hand on Steve's back again as they started walking out. “Everything okay?”

Steve sniffled and nodded, “Yeah, we… we talked. She's… sleeping.” He blushed a little and looked down. “We danced,” he said, softly. “I think I wore her out a little…”

Tony smiled and ruffled Steve’s hair, “Hey, don’t worry about that. She’s still a nutty lady, I’m sure the staff won’t mind a bit.”

The drive back was quiet, Steve looking out the window and thinking; Tony focusing on the road. He parked the car, but didn’t get out right away. He turned to Steve, reaching to take hold of his wrist. “Hey.” Steve turned, and Tony gave him a small smile, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. About Aunt Peggy.”

Steve shook his head a little, letting his hand slide up to give Tony’s a squeeze. “I’m just glad you told me…

“Thank you, Tony.”


	9. “I regret ever meeting you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery is a long and hard road, and not only for those recovering.

“I regret ever meeting you!” 

Steve flinched back, shocked at the words, and stared for a moment. James was frustrated, and he knew he really shouldn’t take it out on Steve, but...

“Buck-”

“I’d never have gotten into this… this…  _ mess _ . I’d never have lost my arm, I’d never have been with… with _ them _ … and I… I…” He whirled around and shouted in frustration, driving his metal fist through the wall. “I  _ hate _ being here! I hate what they did! I hate that I had to go off to war, and I  _ hate _ that that stupid fall didn’t kill me off.” His breaths were ragged. “I hate that you didn’t catch me,” he hissed. “I hate that I can’t remember things before that.” He ripped his hand back out from the broken plaster. “I hate being around you, all hopeful that I’ll remember you. But I  _ won’t _ . I  _ can’t _ . So why don’t you just  _ give up _ already?”

James’ chest heaved and he turned around, half expecting Steve to be gone. But he was still standing there, frozen. He looked away when James met his eyes, and James could see how deep and measured his breaths were. He could see the redness starting to creep around the corners of Steve’s eyes, and his stomach dropped. Oh. Oh, no. But Steve started to nod, backing away. 

“Okay.” His voice was low and quiet, and he turned, leaving the room. James’ advanced hearing was the only reason he heard Steve’s mumbled, “I’ll let Natasha know she needs to help you finish.”

James watched Steve go, unable to follow him. Steve had been incredibly patient with him throughout all of his reintroduction to the modern world. Natasha helped him with histories and learning about the new politics. Steve taught him about pop culture and tried to help him remember things about his own past. James tried his best to remember, because, for some reason, it made his stomach flip whenever Steve’s eyes lit up, happy that he had remembered, even if he still couldn’t remember their supposed life together in Brooklyn. He knew that sometimes he got temperamental, angry that he couldn’t do something as simple as remember things about himself. But Steve had never let it get to him — at least, in front of James. 

Natasha eventually walked in, and helped him calm down, eventually getting him to sit, cross-legged on the floor.

“I screwed up,” he muttered, holding his head in his hands. 

Natasha just shook her head, rubbing his back gently. “It’s okay, James. This is part of your process. You’re allowed to be angry.”

“But Steve… He’s just trying-”

“He knows what he’s getting into by helping you. He knows that this is something that can happen, and that may happen again.”

James was silent for a few moments, just thinking. “I told him he should stop trying.” She raised an eyebrow for him to continue. He swallowed, “He just… he said, ‘Okay’. And then he backed out… he was crying…”

She frowned and her hand stopped for a moment. His breath stuttered at that. She shook her head and gave him a small hug. 

“Do you really want him to stop?”

James shook his head, “No… No he’s… I like it when he’s around, he… he knows. He knows about me and it’s just easier to believe that maybe I was… good once.”

She was quiet for a moment, and then cupped his cheek, kissing his forehead. “Go find him. Talk to him.” She gave him a small smile. “He doesn’t want to give up. I think he just wasn’t prepared for it this time.”

James took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Is… Do you know where he is?”

She stood, “I don’t. But he’s probably found a good chair.”

She let her hand brush over the top of her head before heading out of the room. 

James huffed and rubbed a hand over his face. He sat for a long time, just considering his options. He should fix it, he knew that. But being around Steve anymore just seemed to set him entirely on edge. The guy was helpful sometimes, and always kind, but James just couldn’t handle the pressure of Steve’s expectations. He couldn’t handle seeing him disappointed after every session when James didn’t magically remember everything they had been through together. And while he could understand that it was hard for Steve, too, it wasn’t something he was really wanting to try and deal with anymore. 

Then again, this time, Steve had left with something worse than disappointment, and that was weighing on James. 

He could wait a day, maybe, and see how he felt about it then. But it also didn’t feel right leaving Steve so upset. 

Before he quite realized what he was doing, James was up and across the room, pressing the button for the elevator. It opened almost immediately, and he stepped in. 

“Sergeant Barnes,” the AI greeted. JARVIS, he thought. “Where shall I take you?”

He had no idea where to look first, so he said, softly, “To Steve.”

“Right away.”

The doors opened again once they reached Steve’s floor, which seemed maybe too obvious a place to look. But Natasha had been correct, and Steve was in the far corner of the room, curled up in a large armchair. 

The chair wasn’t something James had paid much attention to before, other than to notice that it was very out of place in the modern decor that Stark had outfitted all the rooms with. It was old and worn, with an ugly green and yellow pattern. To its credit, it had always seemed a very comfy chair, well-stuffed and plush. He’d once thought he’d be able to nap on that chair if he tried. 

He wouldn’t, though. It was Steve’s comfort space, he could tell. Steve’s knees were pulled up to his chest, and his head was resting on his knees. But it wasn’t tight. He was more relaxed as he watched the city from above. His face was still sad, eyes still red-rimmed, but he was calmer at least. 

James cleared his throat, and it took a moment for Steve’s head to turn. They locked eyes, and Steve went rigid. James winced a little and ducked his head, trying to seem meeker. He took a few more steps in, coming closer so that he would be able to speak softly. 

“I need to apologize,” he said, careful to look at the floor. “I can’t… I can’t regret meeting you if… if I can’t remember… meeting you.” The frowned. That wasn’t quite what he wanted to say, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Steve was already replying. 

“You have every right to regret it,” he said, voice low. “What happened to you was awful, and I… I was always a… challenge.” His smile was pained. “It’s fine. I’ll just let Nat cover things with you.”

“No,” he said, quickly. Steve looked up at him, confused. “I… I really didn’t mean what I said. I was frustrated. But you… You know things. That I don’t. About by life and they’re important things. And I…” He took a deep breath and decided to just be honest. He closed his eyes. “I like being able to get things right. You get happy and it’s… right. Something in me knows that it’s right for me to make you smile. I want to try.” He looked up again, and saw tears in Steve’s eyes again. He moved closer and set a hand on his shoulder. Steve’s eyes focused on his knees. “I’m not… I’m not good, but I wanna be. And, most days… you’re the reason I wanna be. Don’t… Please don’t give up on me, Steve.”

Steve was silent for several moments, but James could feel him shaking under his palm. He started to rub Steve’s shoulders just a little, and a sob left the other man. Steve pressed his face against his thighs and started to cry again, in earnest. James felt his own eyes sting in sympathy, the knots in his stomach roiling. He knelt in front of the chair and pulled Steve down onto the floor with him, holding him close. He let Steve hide his face against James’ chest as he cried, and James just pet his hair, letting him hold on as tight as he needed. 

It took several minutes for Steve to cry himself out. James’ knees were hurting, and his back felt odd in his positions, but he held it, his training helping him hold the position. He let his hand curl in Steve’s hair, just holding on a little. 

Steve’s breath stuttered, and he held still in James’ arms just a minute or two longer before pulling away. He sniffled and rubbed his eyes. James’ hand let go of his hair, but moved quickly to hold his free hand. 

Steve laughed weakly, “Thanks…”

James took a deep breath, “I was wrong. I want to remember, I just… It’s hard. I need your help Steve.”

Steve was shaking his head. “You already told me. It’s… it’s fine. You’re allowed to be upset.” He gave James’ hand a squeeze, and smiled just a little. “But… yeah. Thank you.”

James couldn’t help but smile, a little wider, in return. The knots in his belly were untwisting at seeing Steve smile again. He pulled Steve into another hug, and grinned wide as Steve’s arms wrapped around him.


	10. “This is all your fault.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve should’ve known better, honestly.

Steve doesn’t really realize what’s going on until it’s already in progress. He knows that leaning on Tony’s worktables can sometimes cause disaster, but he hadn’t thought that it would be too much of an issue today. It didn’t look like there was much going on in the way of science. So he thought it would be safe. 

But Tony was suddenly yelling at him, and there were crashing noises and small explosions going off behind Steve’s back. He flinched away and ducked as whatever experiments had been laying under the mess of the worktable were all going off, exploding; set off by each other. It was several minutes before the noise and danger came to an end. Tony had joined Steve, ducked on the floor as they tried to keep their faces protected. 

Steve had apparently knocked something over, which Dum-E set back up as he rolled over with the fire extinguisher. Tony started to stand surveying the damage. Steve stayed crouched, just in case. 

After a few moments, Tony looked down at him, glare deadly, “This is all your fault.”

Steve ducked his head, having the decency to look sheepish. Tony didn’t buy it though, and simply shoved a bucket of cleaning supplies his way.


	11. "I will never forgive you for this."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people are dancers. Some people are dancers, and afraid that it won't let people take them seriously.

It becomes a regular thing. Peter has his headphones on, and is “jamming” by himself. And if Gamora passes by, and none of the others are watching, she’ll stop and let him pull her into the dance. He’ll slip off the headphones and turn up the volume all the way so that they can both hear it. It never lasts long, especially on the Milano. She’ll hear footsteps or bickering and immediately pull away. 

She can tell he hates it, and, sometimes, she even feels bad. Not often, though. 

One day, he seeks her out, telling her that this song is one he loves, and he wants her to hear it. He starts to put the headphones over her ears, and she starts to pull away, but he’s insistent. He really wants her to be able to hear all of it. They sort of stare at each other for a few moments, and she finally concedes. One song, she insists, and he promises that he won’t make her do it again. She knows he’ll forget and ask again, but she doesn’t mind reminding him. 

So he puts the headphones over her ears, and pulls her close. 

The song is a fairly slow tempo, just right for dancing nice and slow. They just watch each other as they dance. After a minute, she closes her eyes, just to enjoy the melody. He kisses her cheeks and she rests her forehead on his shoulder as they dance. He’s a good dancer, she thinks. He knows the song well enough and is able to lead the dance, even if he can only hear it faintly. 

The song begins to fade and she pulls back, taking a deep breath. She feels relaxed as she pulls off the headphones. That is, until she hears clapping off to the side. 

Drax is standing there, Rocket on his shoulder, and both of them are grinning. 

“That was beautiful,” Drax says, almost sounding sincere. 

“Yeah, space princess,” Rocket teases. “Didn’t know you had it in you!”

She freezes up. Her facade that she’s had for years now. There’s a crack, a softness. She had hoped they wouldn’t see. She didn’t want this to change anything. Something tells her it’s going to. She knows that they’re going to change. They’re going to become even more obnoxious. She’s going to have to rebuild the stature she has that makes them cower at a single glare from her. It took too long to build that up before, being a woman, however dangerous. It’ll take longer now, she thinks. 

Except, they’ve both shut up, and Drax has taken a small step back - a sure sign that he’s facing something he knows he can’t hope to defeat. Even Rocket it quiet, and that takes effort. 

“Geez. Okay. Gamora, they get it. Chill out.”

She looks over at him, and even Peter’s face shutters, frightened. She tries to school her expression into something more… soft. Drax and Rocket have already run off, and something in her is pleased that, at least for now, she won’t have to worry about them. She still turns her, softer, glare on Peter. 

“If this changes anything, I will never forgive you for this.”

He nods, and she knows, eyes boring into his - into his soul - that he understands the weight of those words. 


	12. “Get out of my sight before I do something we’ll both regret.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has conflicting feelings about Bucky, and he really doesn’t know how to deal with them.

Sam walked into the kitchen intending to make himself some lunch. He hadn’t expected to see Barnes leaning against the counter, already eating a sandwich, which seemed to be made with the good lunch meat Sam had bought - for himself. He huffed and crossed his arms. 

“You’re doing this on purpose, right?”

Barnes feigned innocence, and started talking with his mouth full, “Doing what?” He swallowed.

Sam grit his teeth. “Being annoying. Come on. I knew Steve was a little shit; I thought you’d have some sense.”

Barnes stared at him a moment, and then shrugged, focusing back on the sandwich. “A lot’s changed in the last few years.”

Last few years. Hah.

“Right. Whatever.” Sam decided to just drop it. It wasn’t like he’d written his name on the meat package, though, maybe he should, next time. But he opened the fridge to look, and the package was nowhere to be seen. He frowned, and opened the meat drawer. Maybe Steve moved it. He’d started to organize things, sometimes, as, well, probably some weird coping mechanism that Sam would have to keep track of before it got too out of control. 

But his sandwich meat wasn’t in there, either. He glanced up at Barnes, who was purposefully not paying attention. Sam glared at the back of the man’s head, and then moved over to the trash. He opened the lid, and lo and behold, there was the package, empty. He whirled around.

“You think this is funny, or something?”

“What?” Still, with that innocence, 

Barnes had been doing this for weeks, and, sometimes, it was playful, and Sam could deal with it. But this? This was not playful. It was almost, almost, cute when it was playful. Sometimes, Sam even found that he liked it. Maybe too much. But this was annoying. And rude. And it made Sam’s gut feel weird and hot. He decided to take it as anger.

“Stealing my shit! I bought that for me. And I know Steve wouldn’t take it, and I haven’t touched it, that means you’ve been eating it. And I don’t like that.”

Barnes’ eyebrows furrowed, “How do you know it wasn’t Nat?”

“Nat’s been out of the house for weeks now, on a mission.”

Barnes lifted his chin, “You didn’t have your name on it; you didn’t say anything. I didn’t know it was yours. No one else was eating it and it was really good.”

He sounded sincere with that last part, almost sorry, but that didn’t make Sam feel better. “You were at the store with me and Steve when I bought it.”

“Doesn’t mean you weren’t buying it for the house. I wasn’t paying attention anyways.”

Banter with Barnes was usually stimulating, but this time, the frustration was crawling up through his chest and into his throat, and he wasn’t sure he’d been able to finish this argument civilly. He was going throw himself at Barnes, whether that be in a… pleasant or unpleasant way was yet to be seen. And Sam didn’t really want to find out, either. He suffered a deep breath, and then crossed his arms, holding himself together.

“Get out of my sight before I do something we’ll both regret.” Because Barnes didn’t like him. Not really. They weren’t pals, and they were barely housemates. Barnes wouldn’t want to fight him, though, and he sure as hell wouldn’t want… anything else.

For a moment, Barnes looked like he wanted to argue. But he just set his jaw and slowly nodded, leaving the room quickly and silently.

Sam let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and he had to go and open the freezer door, just standing in front of it and hoping his would help his face to cool down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!!


	13. “How do I know I can trust you, after what you did?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky decides it's okay to make a move, and Sam doesn't really know how to deal with that, either.

Sam trudged through the common area, still thinking about whatever it was that had made him so upset at Barnes the week before. He couldn’t even remember what he’d been mad about - if he was honest with himself. Something inconsequential, that was for sure. Though, with Barnes, the little things just seemed to add up so quickly. He wasn’t ever really sure why. 

Well, that was a lie. He knew exactly what it was, but if he told anyone, even Steve, he wasn’t sure what would get back to Barnes, and he really didn’t want to have that conversation yet. He stalked into the kitchen, huffing, and started to put together a sandwich. He pulled out the new pack of lunch meat that he’d bought two days ago. Touching it made him remember, and his jaw clenched. He huffed and stood, slamming the fridge door shut. Of course that would get him riled up, when it was just Barnes. 

Someone cleared their throat behind him, and he whipped around. 

Barnes was standing in the doorway, looking weirdly - adorably? - pathetic. “I… didn’t touch your meat this time.”

Sam huffed and pretended not to be touched. “Yeah, thanks. Human decency is a miracle, isn’t it?”

He noticed Barnes flinching a little out of the corner of his eye, and tried to ignore him as he made his sandwich. But the other man kept walking closer, inch by inch, until Sam finally turned to face him. 

“What do you want?”

Barnes shrugged a little, posture held carefully straight. “I just wanted to apologize. I want… I want to talk to you about… us.”

“Us?” Sam crossed his arms, attempting to hold himself together. “There is no ‘us’.”

Barnes knew that Sam was weakening about this, Sam could see it in his face, and smiled just a little, “Could there be?”

The question caught Sam off-guard, and he stared at the other man, just stared for a minute. Barnes’ smile started to fade, and he even had the audacity to shuffle his feet. 

“Could there?” Sam repeated. “I don’t know. Could there?”

Barnes wanted it, and that was something Sam had not been prepared to think about. He wanted it. Sam could see it in his eyes, in the way he held himself. And, damn, Sam wanted it, too. He turned around, unable to face Barnes right then. He saw his sandwich, forgotten on the counter, and found he didn’t really have much of an appetite anymore. 

“I… I think there could be,” Barnes murmured, just loud enough for Sam to hear. “I’m sure willing to t-”

“You’re willing. But am I?” Sam spun back around, glaring. The way Barnes flinched back didn’t make him feel any better. Ugh. “How do I know I can trust you, after what you did?”

“Stole your lunch meat?”

Sam just stared at him another moment, and Barnes looked increasingly sheepish. Sam held up his hands to count on his fingers, “Stole my lunch meat. Hogged the couch. Left a mess in the kitchen two weeks ago. Or should I go back further?” Barnes’ face paled. “Abandoned Steve on the bank of the Potomac. Tried to kill us on the Tricarriers. Ripped my steering wheel out of my car before trying to kill us on the bypass. Not to mention-” He stopped. Nothing good would come of mentioning any more of the things Barnes did under Hydra’s control. The man was already curling up tighter into himself. “I just…” his voice was softening, “I’m not sure about this. About… us.”

The corner of Barnes’ mouth ticked up, “You said there wasn’t an ‘us’.”

Sam just huffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, well…” He sighed, “Look, I’m not… opposed. I’m just wary. Y-You can’t blame me for that. Steve knows more about you and how things work for you and he… he’s more comfortable with you. But I don’t have that background.” He shrugged a little. “It would take time.”

Barnes was silent for a minute, looking at his toes and thinking. Sam tried not to hold his breath, tried to act like it wasn’t killing him to wait for a response. Slowly, Barnes came closer. He reached out, hesitantly, and gently held Sam’s hand in his right one. 

“I’m willing to wait.” He smiled up at him, hopefully. “We can work it out.”

Sam found himself smiling back, just a little, “Y’know… I’m willing to believe that.”

Barnes’ grin was dazzling.


	14. “Everything that’s come out of your mouth has been lies.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is arrested, and Steve doesn’t know why. So he goes to have a chat with the police captain, Thor.

He supposes that it’s his sense of boyfriend-ly duty that makes him drive down to the police station, hands gripping the steering wheel too tight. His already pale hands turn even whiter under the pressure. It causes his collarbone to ache and forces him to relax so that he doesn’t impede it’s healing any further.

Or, he decides, he’s just really, really pissed off.

He parks his ma’s car in a visitor spot and marches into the station. The officer’s raise their brows at him, and Steve figures he must be a sight: short, scrawny, and face set in a scowl as his cheeks slowly heat from anger, hands clenched tightly at his sides. They know him well. They know how well he can compose himself. Hela isn’t technically an officer, but her brother, Loki, is a deputy and they must be having a late lunch. 

Loki stands and leans across the counter, “Hey, kid. Everything okay?”

Steve’s eyes narrow and he barely avoids growling, “I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Eighteen isn’t really that old-”

“It’s old enough!” he barks. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He’s not really mad at Loki. Their banter is usually fun. “Nevermind I just…” his jaw clenches, “I need to talk to Thor.”

Loki hums and leans back to glance down a hallway Steve can’t see yet. “Well… my brother seems to be in his office. However, you usually call if you want to talk to  _ Captain Odinson _ so what’s this all about?”

“That’s personal.”

Loki’s eyebrow raises, but Hela reaches forward to take hold of his wrist. “Just let him in. I think this is more important than a phone call.” 

Loki rolls his eyes, but reaches for the button to unlock the door anyways. “Alright. Just knock before you burst in.”

Steve barely hears him, already pushing through the door and nearly jogging down to Thor’s office. He knocks twice on the heavy door before slamming it open. Thor’s head snaps up from his paperwork and he frowns as Steve slams the door behind himself. 

“Steven. What brings you-”

“You said he wouldn’t be arrested!” he accuses, pointing at the Captain. 

Thor just frowns, like he doesn’t know what Steve is talking about, and that just makes Steve angrier. 

“What do you mean?”

“Bucky,” he snaps. “James. Barnes. My boyfriend. Who stepped in to help me. You swore he wouldn’t be arrested.” Steve had been terrified about it, and so had Bucky. The justice system… it wasn’t kind to people like them. Not always. Hate crimes or not. 

Apparently, being friends with the police Captain’s family still has no affect on how they can be treated. It’s very, very discouraging. 

Thor sighs and leans back a little in his chair, “Steven. Please, we only brought him in for more questioning. We needed to talk with him-”

“Then why drag him off in handcuffs?” he growls. “Bucky did nothing wrong.”

“He assaulted two other people-”

“We was protecting me! It was self-defense!”

“Steven!” Thor barks. It’s enough to shut Steve up, his jaw clicking shut. Thor takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. The prosecution is considering him as a third party, and I needed to talk to him more so that we have evidence for the defense. We were required to arrest him.”

“Why?” Steve pleads, managing to calm his temper just a little. “Thor, you know him. He’s not volatile or hostile, he… he would’ve gone without a problem.”

“He resisted arrest, Steven.”

Steve gapes at him. Not Bucky. Not like this. “You’re lying.”

Thor frowns, “That’s what was in the report. I can’t do anything about it.”

And there it is. A small crack in his façade. He looks away. Down and to the left as he says it, and he won’t quite meet Steve’s eye. Steve’s anger boils up again and he steps closer. 

“Tell me the truth.”

“Steven, I  _ am _ -”

“Everything that’s come out of your mouth has been lies!” he screams. “I know Bucky, and I know you. I know you’re not telling me the truth. What happened?” He feels tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. “Tell me the truth.”

Thor looks at him for a moment. Stares in a way that Steve interprets as him trying to gauge how Steve will react to whatever he says. 

“There was another… scuffle,” Thor eventually admits, and Steve has to flop down into one of the chairs. “A couple of your attacker’s friends found out he helped get their friend in jail, and they were angry. A couple of my officers found them, and James tried to resist, claiming innocence.” He leans forward, trying to seem friendly, Steve knows. “I know it wasn’t his fault, and we’ve talked and gotten it sorted out. But he wasn’t hospitalized, and I’m required to keep him here a little longer. Just like we had to keep a watch on you at the hospital.”

Steve takes a deep breath and holds his head in his hands, groaning.

Thor huffs a small breath and comes around to kneel in front of Steve, pulling him into a careful hug. “I know it doesn’t seem fair. But we can’t treat either of you like children anymore. Not when dealing with the law.” He wipes away a couple of tears the happened to fall. “Would you like to see him?”

Steve smiles just a little and takes a couple more steadying breaths. “Please?”

Thor nods and stands, carrying Steve back towards the holding cells.


	15. “I can’t believe I really believed you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony likes to go on lab binges and not sleep. James (Bucky) doesn't like that.

Tony bolted up the stairs to the bedroom, throwing open the door, panting.  He’d gotten a text from James that said he was waiting for him. For what, he hadn’t really said, but there was an eggplant and a couple winky faces, so he was sure that he was in for a pretty great afternoon. 

Except that James was standing in the middle of the room, fully clothed, with his arms crossed. The bed, behind him, had the covers turned down as if he were about to get into bed. The door closed behind Tony, and he could hear it lock. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“I can’t believe I really believed you.”

James shrugged. “I mean… Nat helped with the, erm… emojis? She said they’d lure you out pretty easy. I didn’t know you liked vegetables so much.”

James’ smirk told Tony that he absolutely did know what he had sent, and exactly, but Tony wasn’t concerned about that right then. “You know, I’m pretty sure I can count this as kidnapping. And I can call the Avengers if I’m being kidnapped. Steve will stop this.”

“Steve suggested it.”

Tony cursed Rogers with every ounce of his being, and then tried to open the door, which stayed stubbornly locked. “J, c’mon, open the door.”

“JARVIS isn’t going to let you out,” James said, coming over and scooping Tony up - no, that was not a squeal, thank you very much - to carry him over and dump him onto the bed. “You need to sleep. It’s been three days, and you’ve been in the lab the whole time.”

Tony glared up at him. “I’m not going to sleep.”

“No? You can’t hold out forever.”

“Can. Will.”

James rolled his eyes and climbed into the bed, pulling the covers over himself and Tony before spooning up behind the genius, holding him close so that he couldn’t run off. 

“Baby, please?” he murmured, kissing the back of Tony’s neck. “You promised you’d start taking better care of yourself.”

Tony growled softly, “I hate when you use my words against me. You’re so mean.”

“But you love it when I call you ‘baby’.”

“...Yeah.”

“So will you stay and try to sleep?”

Tony paused for another few moments, and then heaved a sigh, turning in James’ arms and giving him a soft kiss. “I suppose.”

James grinned and relaxed, tucking his head under Tony’s chin as he curled up to the older man, and Tony knew he was trapped. Still. James was warm and the bed was soft. And it wouldn’t hurt if he closed his eyes, just for a moment….


	16. “I knew this was too good to be true.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Super-assassins tend not to like people making a big deal out of something that, in the grand scheme of things, seems fairly insignificant.

Natasha crept down the hallways. She had just returned from a mission, which had ended early. Before coming back to the mansion, she had gone to SHIELD, stopping by her ‘mailbox’ to pick up another mission. Anything to stay away a few more days. But as she reached for it, someone stopped her wrist and slammed the tiny door shut. She whirled around to glare at the person, and was met with an, equally intense, one-eyed glare from Nick. 

“Excuse me,” he said, lowly. “But I think you’re done for the day.”

“I’ve got other work I could be doing,” she replied, lowering her pitch. “Nick, you know I always-”

“Not this year,” he interrupted, making her glare at him. “You get home to your team. I heard something about plans.”

“Which is exactly why I’m staying away,” she growled, pulling her wrist from his grip.

He raised one unimpressed eyebrow. “You’ve been benched, Natasha.” Her jaw dropped and he continued. “You no longer have clearance to certain parts of this building. You couldn’t get out on a mission anyways. Go home.”

The part of her that was already exhausted was loath to argue with Nick, so she glared again, and strode out of the room. 

Of course, she was still dreading whatever plans the boys - and Wanda - had all cooked up, so she snuck into the mansion through the back doors. So far, sneaking had been doing just fine. No one had flicked on the lights to surprise her, and no one seemed to even be awake. As she reached her door, Natasha pulled out her firearm, ready to knock anybody who jumped out at her in the head. 

She opened her door slowly and silently and slipped in, facing the room. No one jumped. No lights flicked on. But James was there, sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed. As she closed the door, he flicked on a lighter and lit a small candle on a small cupcake that he held out to her on a plate. 

“Happy birthday, pauchok.”

She sighed, “I knew this was too good to be true.” All the sneaking and yet…

James looked slightly hurt, “You don’t like it.”

She cooed softly and moved closer, taking the cupcake and kissing his cheek. “I think you’re sweet, but I don’t like people making a big deal of my birthday.”

He pulled her onto his lap. “I didn’t think I did…”

She made a wish and blew out her candle before setting the cupcake on the nightstand. “Not a big deal, you’re right. Thank you.”

He grinned and kissed her cheek softly once she rested it on his shoulder. “Tired?”

“Mhm. Were you planning on staying the night?”

He started to lay them both down, maneuvering the covers and tucking them both in. “If you don’t mind too much.”

“I don’t,” she mumbled, already half asleep. He was warm, and the blankets were snug around them. She knew that he would protect her, and that comfort had her already drifting away. “Love you.”

He kissed her forehead and kept her held snugly to his chest, just the way she liked to be held. His soft, “Love you, too,” was the last thing she made out before falling asleep. 


	17. “I’m an idiot for ever letting you in.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes friends intrude. But with the best intentions.

A week prior, Tony had shown up at Sam’s door, drunk and miserable and totally unable to find his way back to the Tower. So, of course, Sam had pulled him inside and gotten him some water and aspirin before putting him to bed. 

After that, Clint had dropped by. Then Natasha. Then Thor. Then Thor again, and he brought Bruce with him. And then Steve came by, and Tony was already there, raiding Sam’s cabinets for something good to cook. They had dinner together, and Sam was more confused than he’d been in a while. When Wanda and Vision came by with a casserole, he figured that, well, it couldn’t hurt to have people over, right? They were his friends. Kind of.

Tony was currently sitting in his living room, arguing with Sam over whether  _ It’s a Wonderful Life _ was really a good thing to watch at Christmastime. 

“Tony, it’s a classic! It’s about friends and family coming together. Of course it’s fine to watch at Christmas.”

“Um… George literally goes nuts and contemplates suicide and is kind of a dick through the whole movie. I dunno Sam. I wouldn’t let  _ my _ kids watch it.”

“You don’t have any kids.”

“Well, I won’t let Peter watch it, then.”

“I’m an idiot for ever letting you in,” he grumbled to himself, rubbing his forehead. “No one ever argues about this stuff.”

Tony was silent for several moments, and Sam had to look over at him. He was frowning over at Sam, but more like he was confused. 

“You don’t enjoy our little talks, Wilson?”

“I think they’re sometimes pointless, Stark.” He sighed, looking down at his hands. “It’s… It’s not just that. People have been showing up to my house more and more, recently, and I don’t know what to do with them. I enjoy it, sure, but…” He looked back up, eyes narrowing a little. “It all started with you.”

The silence stretched on for another few moments, and Tony just… smiled. 

“You’re a good friend,” he said, voice weirdly soft. “And you seemed kind of, I dunno… lonely? The rest of us live together and you’re just out here by yourself. I figured we could help you out.”

Sam couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled out of him. And he almost felt bad, looking at Tony’s face. 

“Sorry, I just… You keep coming over because you think I’m lonely?”

Tony’s expression started to close off. “Yeah…”

“Well, why not just drag me to the Tower?”

“You said you didn’t want to move in.”

Sam shrugged, moving to sit next to him on the couch, “I don’t. But I could come spend time over there. You got somethin’ against me crashing at your place?”

Tony laughed a little, seeming to ease up a little, “No. I just figured… I dunno.”

Sam laughed and patted his shoulder, standing and moving over to the DVD player. “How about we take the movie over to the Tower, huh? We’ll all watch it. Steve will agree with me.”

Tony scoffed, “That’s ‘cause Steve likes you better.”

“No it’s ‘cause I’m right.”

“You wish, Wilson.”

“You’re on, Stark.”


	18. “Please, don’t leave things like this.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the end of the semester, and Tony decides he has to finish his project and not go partying with Rhodey.

“It’s not that bad.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Tones, this place is a dump.”

Tony huffed, not looking up from his project. “Look, it’s finals, and I have a project due tomorrow. I need to finish this tonight.”

Rhodey sighed and moved to sit on his bed, surveying the mess of robot parts and chemistry equipment that littered their dorm floor. “You know, you don’t have to do this to prove you’re a genius. The whole campus is aware that we are all being shown up by a fourteen-year-old.”

“First of all, I’m fifteen. Second of all, I know that. I just… forgot about this. I thought I had it done, I just forgot this bit. It won’t take me long.” He looked back at Rhodey, “And I’ll be ready for the party in commons. That’s what you’re worried about, right? Missing it?”

Rhodey tried to play it off, shrugging, “I mean… I’m not  _ worried _ . I just would like to be there. Last one before graduation and all that.”

Tony just rolled his eyes, “Go. I know you want to. You’ll make out with Lindsay White, or something, and people will cheer and dump gatorade on you or whatever.”

Rhodey waded through the mess to put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna just leave you in here alone. It’s your graduation, too.”

Tony leaned into the touch, but didn’t stop working. “I’ll be down later. I just need to get this done. Okay?”

It was mostly to appease Rhodey, and he knew that. But Tony was busy, so he let it slide. He didn’t want to put anything else on the kid’s shoulders. 

“Alright. But… Please, don’t leave things like this. Pick up before you come down, alright?”

Tony scoffed, and looked up from his work to smirk over at Rhodey as he left. “Right. Sure.” He smiled a bit more genuinely, “Have fun, okay?”

“Ain’t gonna be any fun without you, Tones.” He smiled and headed for the door. “See you later.”

Tony waited until the door had closed and he was sure Rhodey was down the hall to jump up and start cleaning the room. 


	19. “If you walk away right now, don’t ever come back. And I mean it–ever.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is still recovering on his own. It's hard to support someone else when you're dealing with stuff on your own.

He has to walk away, sometimes. And he thinks that’s reasonable. Sam says that it’s reasonable. You have to be stable in order to help someone else. You can’t be their rock if you’re crumbling on your own. 

Steve tries to be there for Bucky anyways. As much as he can. But sometimes, when Bucky has a bad day, or an episode… it’s more than Steve can handle and he has to step back and let Sam or Natasha handle it. It hurts him when he needs to distance himself, because he wants to be there, and he hates feeling useless. He knows it upsets Bucky, too. He knows that he wishes Steve would stay. They’re building their friendship back up, and they have so many good moments. They take a step back every time Steve walks away, and he knows Bucky is getting frustrated with him. 

He knows it’s not fair to him. 

So when Bucky starts to have another fit - already having a bad day and becoming angry at something that they both know really isn’t important - and Steve’s attempts to help aren’t working, he tries to just ride it out, letting Bucky rave and swear. And once it’s done, only one lamp in pieces across the room this time, Bucky faces him, staring at him suspiciously as he sits quietly on the couch. 

“You’re still here,” he says, lowly. 

Steve wipes at the wet spots under his eyes, clearing his throat before speaking, also low, “Of course I am.”

He flinches a little at Bucky’s scoff, “‘Of course’? You’re never here afterwards.”

Steve ducks his head, because he really can’t deny it. He almost had to go this time, once the lamp shattered and popped, but he forced himself to stay. “I… I’m trying. I wish I was here after more often.”

“You do?” Bucky looks like he doesn’t believe him. He’s still a little angry, and Steve knows he needs to tread carefully.

“Of course.” He winces internally at that, and again when Bucky’s eyebrow raises. It’s not obvious, and Bucky’s disbelief is only turning to annoyance as Steve acts like it is. “I just… I want to help you, Buck. I wanna be here for you but I… It’s really hard for me sometimes.”

“Because I’m not better yet?”

He sounds bitter, and Steve hates that. He stands and holds his hands out in front of him, sort of pleading. “It’s not like that. I want to  _ help _ you get better, Buck. You’re not there yet, but that’s fine. No one expects you to be all better yet.”

“You leave at first sign that I’m not, so what do you expect me to believe?” He steps closer, but it’s menacing, a challenge. It makes Steve’s chest feel tight; makes his eyes sting a little. “You’re always gone. You let Sam clean up the mess and come back when it’s all safe. He’s been far more helpful than you.”

Steve swallows hard. “I’m tryin’ real hard, Buck. I’m… I’m here this time.”

“Yeah, and you’ve done what, exactly?” He crosses his arms and his jaw clenches. “Cry. Is that what you do every time you leave? Cry? Is it for me or for yourself?”

“For… For us,” he says, softly, hands tucking closer to his chest. “I miss you, Buck. I wish I could help, but I’m not… I’m not in a good place either.” He needs him to understand. “I don’t want you to have to deal with my mess. So… So I leave.” Bucky studies him for a minute, and he shuffles his feet, stuffing his hands into his pockets. 

“And you stayed this time,” Bucky says finally. “Why the change?”

“I told you,” he answers, frowning. “I want to help.”

“Yeah, well, great job at that.”

Steve ducks his head, jaw clenching as he fights the sting in his eyes. “I’m trying.”

“Aw, gee, that’s swell,” Bucky drawls. “It’s helpin’ so much.”

And Steve gets that Bucky is angry. He’d got every right to be. Steve’s a mess, and he has no business trying to help on this end. And he’s fucked up his chances of starting to. He did that the first time he left. He bites his lip, considering his options. 

He decides he isn’t strong enough to handle any more of this right now, even though he knows he deserves it. He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I-I’ll get Sam.”

He turns and starts to head for the elevator, but he’s being suddenly spun around, Bucky’s metal arm gripping his bicep too tightly. Bucky’s in his face, lips in a near-snarl and his expression tight, his eyes angry. Steve’s left with his lips parted in shock, his face halfway in a grimace at the pain on Bucky’s grip. 

Bucky’s lips part, but his mouth barely moves as he hisses, “If you walk away right now, don’t ever come back. And I mean it - ever.”

Steve’s eyes start to fill and he closes his mouth, jaw clenching as he swallows several times. He tries to remember to breathe deeply, and shakes his head just a little, feeling lost. 

“Buck,” he says, softly, voice breaking. “I don’t know what to do…”

His vision starts to blur and he ducks his head, hoping that the tears will just drip to the floor. He doesn’t want them on his cheeks. He doesn’t deserve to cry right now. The punishing grip on his arm is suddenly gone, and he’s pulled into a tight hug. He gasps, but his arms wrap around Bucky all the same. 

“Just… hug me, Punk,” Bucky says, quietly, breathing heavily. “That’s all y’gotta do.”

Steve sniffles, once or twice, and pulls himself together. He nods, unable to speak right then, and hugs Bucky tighter, swearing that he’s not going to let go. Not ever again.


	20. “Just hold on–you hear me? You’re not dying like this. Not here; not now!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Alert: The end of Infinity War. Re-written just a bit. Don't read if you haven't seen it.

Tony stood, side aching, and looked around. Everyone else was... relatively unhurt. The Guardians - or whatever - were speaking in low, angry tones to their Star-Prince - or whatever. Peter was picking himself up a little ways away, and Strange was sitting not too far, catching his breath. 

Suddenly, Tony could feel it. A change in the air… the atmosphere… He didn’t know what it was. He looked around, frantically. His eyes landed on the Guardians, and they had all stopped, also looking around. The woman - Mantis? - held onto Drax, shaky. 

“Something’s happening,” she said, voice soft but carrying through the still air. 

They all start to gather close, and Tony helps Peter up, bringing him over. There’s a moment when Tony thinks maybe the tension will pass. And then Mantis disintegrates, body blowing away in a cloud of fine dust. His breath catches and he watches as the other guardians follow. 

Drax’s is slower, and he says, softly, more frightened than Tony could ever imagine him, “Quill?”

Quill watches, horrified, and then turns to the rest of them, at a loss. 

“Steady, Quill,” Tony tries. He feels Peter becoming unsteady next to him. 

Quill shakes his head, just a little. “Oh, man…” And he’s gone, too. 

Panic rises in Tony’s chest, and he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to think or how to act. There’s… there’s no way to stop something like this.

“Tony.” Tony turns and faces Strange, who looks tired. Resigned. He knows what’s going to happen to them. Dammit, he knew the whole time. Tony feels angry, and he knows it shows on his face. Strange just looks at him, apologetically. He shakes his head, just a little, and says, “There was no other way.”

The bastard maintains eye contact until the last second, and then he’s gone, too. 

Tony wants to cry. He wants to scream and cuss and throw things. This isn’t how it goes. They’re the Avengers. They’re the good guys. They’re supposed to win. 

“Mr. Stark?”

He whips around. No. Not Peter, too. Not… Not Peter. 

“I don’t feel so good…” Peter says, voice breaking at the end. 

And Tony can’t handle it. He rushes forward and pulls Peter into his arms, trying to hold on to him. The kid starts pleading with him, starting to cry, and Tony can’t do it. He interrupts him, frantically, “Just hold on–you hear me? You’re not dying like this. Not here; not now!” 

Peter’s legs go and they stumble to the ground, Tony protecting Peter’s head from the rock beneath them. Peter’s eyes are watery and red as he looks up at him, and the kid takes a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. He looks away, as if it’s too much, and fades in Tony’s arms. 

Tony falls back, panting and staring at his hands, waiting for them to go, to fade. Nothing happens. Nothing.  _ Nothing. _

“He did it.” Nebula is behind him, the last Guardian. 

He hates it. He almost hates her. But she sits close as he curls in on himself, trying to contain the unbearable rage and grief that begin to consume him. Her hand rests on her shoulder, and he sobs once, reaching up to cover her hand with his, holding on for dear life.


	21. “I need you more than I need air.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Steve has dreams. Sometimes, he has nightmares.

Steve hardly ever gets a good night’s sleep. Often, he suffers insomnia, or nightmares. The good dreams, sometimes, aren’t even so good. They hold the people he loves; the people he misses the most. He wakes up hollow when he has those dreams. He dreads them as much as the nightmares, but can’t help but pray that he’ll have those instead as he goes to sleep. 

Tonight, he finds himself next to Peggy, in the middle of… nowhere important. It’s a familiar place, and that’s all he can tell. But it doesn’t matter, because he can’t look away from her. She’s talking. Her lips are moving, and she’s smiling and her eyes are sparkling with passion for whatever she’s saying. None of it reaches his ears, but her tone washes over him, and he relaxes, warm enveloping him. 

He comes to a realization, and he has to voice it. She has to know. She never got to know before, and if he doesn’t tell her now, he never will. 

“Peggy.” She doesn’t stop talking, but he barrels on. She had to know. “I need you. I need you more than I need air. Peggy.”

She stops talking, then. And her eyes narrow a little. Her smile stays plastered on her face, though, and everything changes. Her face isn’t quite right, her eyes are wrong and the smile goes wider, becomes fake. 

“Darling,” she says, voice painfully clear and tone sickly sweet, “who said you could have either?” Then, she laughs. 

The warmth that surrounds him chills immediately. Where her words had warmed him before, her laughter freezes him now, threading through his veins and darkening the world around him as he sinks deeper and deeper. Frost covers his limbs and then ice. Ice. It climbs up over his toes and quickly up the rest of his body. He watches in horror, trying to break free. His movements don’t even crack it. It closes around his chest and his breaths shallow. 

He looks up frantically, and all he sees is Peggy still laughing maniacally until the ice obstructs his vision. 

Steve wakes in a cold sweat, chest heaving as he draws in as much air as he can. He’s shaking all over but he manages to stumble into the bathroom where he collapses by the toilet and heaves. 

It’s worse, he decides, when his dreams turn out to be both.


	22. “Did you ever really care?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sif and Thor have a talk.

After meeting Jane Foster, Sif supposed that there was something there. The woman was remarkable in a way that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She could understand why Thor was waiting until he could return to her.

That wasn’t the issue, though. Jane had been in Thor’s life for only a few days. Sif had been there for thousands of years. She’d been trying to earn his affections for so long now, and something in her had snapped. 

Their evening at the bars had been enjoyable. The Three were keeping Thor wrapped up with songs and tales, but Sif finally pulled him to the side. She knew it was odd, and she knew he was worried. It was written all over his face, but it was also in the way his touched her, hand heavy on her arm, warm and steady. He wanted to leave him hanging, just a little. But she couldn’t hold it in any longer. 

“Did you ever really care?” she said, voice low. 

Thor frowned, and his hand tightening on her arm, “Sif… What brought this on? I’ve always cared about you. You are my friend.”

She looked at him a moment, just long enough for him to begin to realize that he hadn’t really guessed what this was about, “Of course. And I have enjoyed our friendship. But you fell for that Midgardian so easily, and I-”

“Sif,” he cut her off, expression darkening. “I care for you very much, but Jane is my partner. I will not change that.”

“I know that,” she said, quickly. She meant to continue, but her words caught in her throat. She swallowed and looked down at her feet. “I just… I’ve known you so much longer. And she… won your heart in a day.” She shook her head, looking back up at him, “Is there something wrong with me?”

Thor’s expression immediately softened, and he pulled her into a tight hug. Sif his her face against his chest, hoping that it would hide any tears that might show. He was silent, but he was warm and his grip was tight, and she knew he was just looking for the right words. 

“I care about you so much, Sif,” he murmured, after several minutes. “We grew up side-by-side. I’ve fought with you for centuries. I… I think of you, very much, as a sister.” He pulled back a little and kept his hands on her shoulders, “I’m sorry, Sif. We… we should have talked much sooner.”

She sighed and looked away, nodding. “Yes, we should have.” She leaned closer and pressed a kiss to his cheek before pulling away. “Thank you for your honesty.” She gave him a small smile and headed back to their friends. She scooped up a mug of ale, taking a large gulp and ignoring Fandral’s protests. Volstagg laughed with Hogun, and Sif smiled, just a little. She drank the rest of the stein and cried out for another. Feelings be damned. She was going to have a good night with her friends.


	23. “Was this all just some big joke to you?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets in too many fights for Bucky's taste.

Bucky dragged Steve back to their apartment, teeth clenched against anything awful that he might say. He unlocked their door and pushed Steve in, closing it before Steve could even try to walk back out. He stood in front of the door, arms crossed. Steve pushed at him, but Bucky didn’t budge. 

“Steve, knock it off,” he said, lowly. 

“Let me  _ out _ , Buck. I’m not a child, you can’t just lock me in ‘ere.” The blood from Steve’s nose dripped onto his jacket, and Bucky knew it was going to be a bitch to try and clean out. 

“You’re actin’ like a child, Steve. You can’t fight every asshole you meet on the sidewalk!”

Steve glared up at him, arms crossing over his chest. More blood dripped, and Bucky felt angrier. 

“We can’t just let assholes go unchecked, Buck, or they’ll hurt more people ‘n they already do! You gotta stand up to bullies. You know that.”

He knew that Steve thought that it was his duty to fight every bully ever. But he also knew that this had to stop being an everyday occurance. “Yeah, well, you can’t try to punch out every asshat in Brooklyn.”

“Watch me.”

Bucky shoved Steve back as he tried to pass him, ignoring his grunt of pain. It should have been his clue to stop. Steve’s nose was still bleeding, albeit sluggishly, all over the place, staining his shirt and coat red. His hair was flopped down in his eyes, and there were bruises blooming on his cheekbones. He should stop. Get Steve help; clean him up. But he just snapped. 

“Was all this some big joke to you?” he shouted, fists clenching. “You can’t fight ‘em, Steve. What the fuck are you even thinkin’? They all clock you out, and then I hafta get in there to save your dumb ass ‘cause you just don’t know when to fucking quit!” Steve shrunk back a little, shoulders going rigid, jaw tight and eyes wide. But Bucky couldn’t stop. “I’ve been havin’ to play this game for years! When we were twelve and fightin’ bullies on the playground, it was alright. We were helpin’ out our friends and neighbors. But now? Jesus, Steve, you’re fightin’ any ol’ guy on the street who looks at anybody else wrong, and that’s  _ not okay _ !” He pushed past him to stalk further into their dingy apartment. “But y’know what? Fine. Whatever. Go out. Get yourself killed. You obviously don’t care. So why should I, huh? Go find ‘im and let ‘im know you ain’t done with ‘im yet.”

Steve turned to look face him, but Bucky didn’t turn around, gripping the kitchen counter tightly and leaning on it to keep himself grounded. 

“Buck,” he said softly, voice cracking a little. Bucky closed his eyes. “You don’t… you don’t mean that. Right?”

Bucky almost wished he meant it. Because if he meant it, then the weird softness of Steve’s voice wouldn’t hurt him so much. He’d get angrier and tell him to fuck off and stop being an idiot. But he couldn’t do that. He turned around, breathing deep and leaning against the counter still. Steve’s head was ducked, and he was looking down at his shoes. His nose had stopped bleeding finally. Good thing, too, or Bucky would’ve punched him, himself, for getting blood on the floor. Steve’s hands were tucked in his pockets, shoulders hunched and eyes frustratingly sad. 

“If I did. Would you leave?”

Steve flinched, and Bucky knew, immediately, that he had taken that as a  _ yes _ . 

“Yeah… Sure, Buck. I’ll be on m’way then.” He shuffled towards the door, reaching for the handle with a trembling hand. 

Bucky swore and pushed forward, crossing the apartment quickly and grabbing Steve’s wrist. He spun him around and pulled him into a tight hug. “I didn’t mean it you  _ punk _ .” Steve’s arms wrapped around him, just as tight, and Bucky sighed, closing his eyes and hugging him even tighter. “You’re an idiot, but I don’t want you to go.”

Steve shrugged a little, still hugging Bucky as tightly as his frail body would let him, “A lotta other people never minded.” His voice was still so low, shaky, and it broke Bucky’s heart.

“Well a lotta other people ain’t been here long enough to see how great you are.” He sighed and hauled Steve up, ignoring his squawk of surprise. He flung him over his shoulder and carried him to the bathroom. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up. And get some ice on your face or somethin’.” He looked down at his shirt, which now had second-hand blood stains. “By the way, you’re doing the laundry this week again. And cleaning the floor.”

“Buck, it’s your turn!”

“It’s your blood.”

He heard Steve take a deep breath to reply, and then felt him deflate, the air leaving him in a rush. “Fine.”

Bucky smiled and patted Steve’s back, setting him down on the edge of the tub and turning to get their medicine kit from the top shelf of the cabinet. 


	24. “I wish this was easy. I really do. But we both know how this is going to end.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony can get intense sometimes.

Steve growled, frustrated; clenched his teeth and glared at Tony. Tony was staring back with the same intensity, a smirk firmly in place. He leaned forward a little. 

“Can’t handle the competition, Rogers?”

Natasha and Clint were nearly comatose in a pile off to Steve’s right, and Thor was just trying his best to keep up with Steve and Tony. 

“I can handle it,” he grumbled, hands clenching and releasing at his sides. “You’re not going to win this. I’ve lasted too long for  _ you _ to be the one to knock me out.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thor taking stock of the situation, and simply backing out. He looked tired, quite a feat, as he went to check on Clint and Natasha. Steve let himself focus completely on Tony, glad that Bruce had hidden himself away somewhere and decided not to let himself get dragged into this. Tony chuckled, sinister in a way that made goosebumps raise on Steve’s arms. 

“I wish this was easy. I really do. But we both know how this is going to end.” He leaned further in, making Steve glare harder. “No matter how hard you make this for me, Rogers, you’re not going to win.”

“Over my dead body, Stark.”

Tony laughed and leaned back, narrowing his eyes. “Then show me what you’re made of.”

It lasted another hour, their battling back and forth, and Steve’s patience was wearing thin. Thor had tried to assist him again, but it was futile. Tony had the upper hand and he knew it. Steve was watching his every move, trying to find a weakness in his strategy, but it was too much. Too complicated and too frustratingly  _ perfect _ . Thor was now sitting with Clint and Natasha, who were starting to come around again. But they would be no more help to Steve. Not as he made a final move, and landed perfectly in Tony’s trap. He cursed and Tony laughed, leaning in. 

“It’s got a hotel, Rogers. That will be two-thousand.”

And that was two-thousand that Steve just didn’t have. He huffed and flung the rest of his money at Tony, along with his properties, trying to ignore Tony’s cackling. 

“I hate Monopoly,” Steve growled, getting up from his criss-cross position on the floor. His knees popped, and he groaned, wobbling slightly over to the couch to rouse Clint and Natasha the rest of the way from their nap. He glowered at Thor, “You gave up too easily. We could’ve gotten him.”

“Nay, Steve,” Thor said, looking at the gameboard woefully. “I’m afraid Tony had us wrapped around his fingers long before I backed out.”

“Don’t be such a sore loser, Rogers,” Tony called over. “You may be a tactical genius, but I’ve been in the business longer than you’ve been alive.” Steve glared back at him, but Tony just shrugged, “Or awake, whatever. Longer than you.”

Natasha grabbed Steve’s wrist to stop him from going over, “Hey. It’s just a game. And it’s over. Go get Bruce, and we can all decide what we want for dinner.”

Steve glared back at Tony, who smirked right back, until Natasha smacked his hip. He sighed and headed for the elevator. He pressed the button and crossed his arms, waiting for the doors. He turned and looked back at Tony, ignoring the warning glare Natasha sent his way. 

“I’ll win next time!”

Tony just started laughing, and Natasha had to get up and force Steve into the elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was hard to figure out how to work the beginning so that it didn’t give too much away! Agh! 
> 
> But this was so fun. I think this has been one of my favorites that I’ve worked on.


	25. “If I let you in, you’ll hate what you find!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha needs to see what Steve’s hiding.

Steve kept this room in his apartment locked at all times. If Natasha didn’t know any better, she’d think it was a closet of supplies or something. But the floor layouts were all just about the same, so she knew that it was a full room; maybe an extra bedroom or a studio. And normally, she’d let her curiosity get the best of her and she would break in. But JARVIS kept this door sealed, not any key locks or bolts. She couldn’t break it down, and she couldn’t pick it open. 

She had figured out Steve’s passcode for it a long time ago. He wasn’t very subtle about it. He’d needed a sketchbook and couldn’t find it. So he excused himself and went to the locked door, telling JARVIS a soft, “Picasso”, and disappearing inside, the door locking right behind him. He’d come out just as quickly, and she hadn’t been able to peek into the room. The problem, though she knew the passcode, was that JARVIS used voice recognition. She’d tried, several times, when Steve was away on missions. 

It felt a little intrusive. Normally, she didn’t worry about that. But this was Steve. And she did respect Steve. But there was little in this Tower that she didn’t know about. She had been into Tony’s labs countless times, usually uninvited but always welcome. She knew she wouldn’t have been to get in easily otherwise. She could have done it, but there was no way that she would have risked this new gig, so soon. 

Now, she was a pretty secure part of this family, and she knew that nothing short of total betrayal and murder would get her kicked out. But Steve’s morals had probably rubbed of on her and she felt really weird about trying to break into his private art room or whatever. But if it really was a studio, he wouldn’t have the floor-to-ceiling windows, which were basically one whole wall of his apartment, covered.

So some scouting was in order. 

Scaling Avengers tower was not even in the top 30 dangerous things she had done. But her stomach was rolling as she crept slowly down to Steve’s floor. It was a little harder to see in, but she managed. She could see the elevator doors, and the entrance to the kitchen. She sighed and crept along the wall to her right, making her way to where she was sure the studio would appear. It was… larger than she expected. And far messier. Steve was sitting closer to the window than she had expected, so she kept only her head in his view. She couldn’t see what he was painting, his easel turned towards the door, and the sun was shining too brightly against the glass for her to be able to tell what was on the finished canvases against the wall. 

One caught her eye, though. It wasn’t very clear, but there was a good amount of red and black, and it almost seemed like a person. It was weirdly familiar, and she started to lean further forward to see if she could see more of it. 

A curtain was suddenly closed in front of her face, and she could no longer see inside the studio. She sighed softly and started to climb back up the side of the building. It was better to get this over with now. 

Steve was waiting for her at the top of the Tower, arms crossed and jaw clenched. She gave him a wan smile as she unbuckled her harness and put it away in the gear box they kept up there for emergencies. 

“What the hell were you doing?”

“Window-washing?”

He was not at all impressed with her response, and his expressions shuttered. “Not funny. That’s a private space, Natasha.”

She sighed and shrugged, “I’m sorry, Steve. I know how you are about things like that, but… Damn, I was so curious.”

He hummed and stared at her for a moment. He was trying to figure out what she was hiding, she knew, but she was far better at this than he would ever be, and she kept her expression firmly in place. He gave up after a few minutes and turned away. 

“Fine. But please don’t do that again. I don’t snoop into your things.” 

She walked down to the common area with him, but they didn’t talk much the rest of the evening. 

But she wasn’t going to give up on that room! The vague portrait she’d seen - she was sure it was a portrait now - was very intriguing, and she had to know if it was what she thought it was. So she left it alone for a while. They didn’t talk about it, and she didn’t try to sneak in. She kept to herself and got out her excess energy by pranking Tony in the lab. 

Steve finally invited her up for dinner again, and she let the night continue normally, not so much as looking at the studio door. She knew it gave him comfort, and she kept it up for another week or so. 

Natasha had been waiting outside the studio door for an hour now, waiting for Steve to come out. She knew he wouldn’t invite her in, but she was determined to get a peak or to slip in when he exited. When the door finally opened, it was dark inside the room. He had closed the curtains and turned off the lights. He was already frowning, and he simply held out one strong arm to grab her before she could run in. The door shut with a hiss, and Natasha grumbled as Steve dragged her into his living room, dropping her onto his couch.

“I said I wouldn’t be letting you in, Nat. What was so difficult about that?!”

She glared up at him, crossing her arms. “Steve, c’mon. You leave your sketchbooks all over the place all the time! How is this that much different?”

“I don’t mind people seeing some of my sketches. I mind you seeing my paintings.”

She was silent for just a moment, staring up at him, his cheeks slightly flushed and his eyes angry. She smirked, “Just me?”

“What?”

“You mind me seeing your paintings. Is it just me?” The way his jaw clenched told her everything and she was over the back of the couch in an instant, running for the door. “What are you hiding, Rogers?”

The poor guy. He threw himself in front of the door before she reached it, blocking her way. “Stop it! Just leave it alone!”

“I don’t want to! I want to know what you think I shouldn’t see? I know what you like to sketch. I’d imagine you paint similar things. So I mean… unless it’s me naked-” She stopped abruptly as his cheeks flushed, and raised an eyebrow, pressing closer to him. “Is it?”

He looked away, voice lowering in volume. “Of course not. I’m not like that. You know that. It’s just…” He huffed, frustrated. “If I let you in, you’ll hate what you find! Just, please, trust me on that.”

Her eyebrows raised, “Is it me, nude?”

“No!” he exclaimed, immediately.

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

Steve stared her down, or tried, for a minute, and then finally relented. He sighed and his shoulders dropped as he turned around to face the doors. “JARVIS? Picasso.”

The door hissed open and Steve let Natasha walk in, first, following behind and flicking in the lights as the door shut behind them. He walked around her to go and open the curtains back up. Natasha was just staring. 

In the middle of the room was the large canvas she’d seen him working on before. Only it was nearly finished, and it was of the team, weary and dirty after the battle of New York, resting, and feasting on Shawarma. She remembered seeing the paparazzi shot a couple weeks after the incident (the press never sleeps) and thinking that it was almost funny. She liked this painting much better though. They were all still tired, but seemed happier, somehow. More familial. Natasha liked that. 

“How could I hate this?” she asked, softly. 

Steve’s face went red and his eyes darted around the room. “It… wasn’t this I was worried about.”

Natasha looked around, following his gaze, and her jaw dropped. Portraits. Of her. She could see the one, on the wall, that she’d noticed from the window. It was her. That was why it was so familiar. But as she looked over the hung paintings and canvases propped up on the floor, she kept seeing herself. A park, Natasha, the team, Natasha, Natasha, a meadow, Natasha, James and Peggy, Natasha, Natasha, a fruit basket, a flower vase, Natasha, puppies, Natasha, Natasha, Natasha cleaning her weapons, and so many more. She looked up at Steve, who was staring at his feet, totally embarrassed. She couldn’t say anything, too shocked, so she just stared at him, jaw dropped. 

“U-Um… I can. I can get rid of them, if you want,” Steve murmured, after several minutes of silence. 

Natasha closed her mouth. She swallowed and pulled herself together. “Why?”

He took a half a step back. “It’s… I suppose it’s a little creepy. I figured you wouldn’t like it. I can get rid of them. I can stop-”

“No,” she hurried to say. She held up her hand when it looked like he’d argue, “Just, stop talking. Listen.” Steve’s mouth closed, and Natasha took a couple steps closer. “You are an incredible artist, and I’m… incredibly flattered. They look amazing. Everything in here looks amazing. I just…” She sighed. “I want to know why you chose  _ me _ .” 

Even though his head was ducked, she could see him start to smile, just a little bit. “You’re… beautiful. And a friend. And I… I like your hair. I was… I just thought that it would be a couple. But you’re… my favorite subject now. I’m… I’m sorry.” He headed towards the windows, reaching for the curtains. 

“Don’t,” Natasha said, watching him halt. “Don’t be sorry.” She looked over the paintings, and walked carefully over to one of her with shorter hair, curled and framing her cheeks. “May I keep this one?”

He stared at her, totally confused, and wondered if anyone had ever told him that they liked the work he did here. “You… You want it? You’re not upset?”

“Have you sold any of them?”

“...No.”

“Have you posted them online?”

“No!”

“Have you showed them to anyone else?”

“No, of course not.”

She gave a shrug and a small smile. “Then I have nothing to be upset about. I like them. They’re very good. Very well done. I’d like to keep one. If you don’t mind.”

He looked at the painting, and then at Natasha, and shrugged, returning her smile with a shy grin of his own, “I mean… I don’t need it for anything. If you really want it…”

She smiled and pulled him closer, kissing his cheek and hugging him, “Thank you, Steve.”

He hugged her back, gently, “You’re welcome.” He looked back down at his shoes as they separated, “Would you like me to stop painting you?”

Natasha shrugged and gave him a sly look, “Well, it wouldn’t want to stop your flow in creativity. I don’t mind being your muse.” She patted his cheek and went to pick up the painting, carefully. As she headed for the door, she turned and said, smirking, “And I suppose that, if you decide you want to do nude studies, well, I don’t mind posing.” She winked, and then laughed at the way his whole face slowly turned red. 


	26. “I’m not worthy of you. I’ll never be. You’re too good for me.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vision and Wanda struggle a little when it comes to being inconspicuous in the wake of Civil War.

What was the hardest part of being in hiding? Wanda couldn’t always decide between things like not having a job, or not having a real home. But she supposed that the most consistent problem was that Vision was purple. Hiding in plain sight was easy for Wanda because she was a human. But someone would surely notice Vision if he walked out and about on the streets. 

This was a problem they were determined to fix. What fun would it be if they had to stay inside together all the time?  
Wanda’s magic, as she practiced more and more, could do more things than she ever thought possible. She could influence people around her to see when she wanted them to see. She could veil herself and Vision of they wanted to go out. For the most part, it seemed to work. But it was exhausting, still, to do it for hours on end, and Vision was starting to notice. 

“Wanda, it’s alright. You don’t need to exert yourself for me.”

“But Vis, I’ve got to help somehow. I can do this. I just need to practice.”

He sighed, and sat with her on their bed, pulling her into his arms. “Wanda. Thank you. But this is hurting you. We need to find something else that won’t drain you. I don’t mind not being able to get out as much if it means you stay healthy.” He gently pet her hair. “I don’t need sunlight to survive. You do.”

Wanda leaned up and kissed his cheek. “You care so much.” She sighed and hugged him close, “I’m not worthy of you. I’ll never be. You’re too good for me.”

Vision chuckled and rubbed her back, “You’re far more worthy than anyone else. These last few days have proven that.”  
He felt her huff against his shoulder, and smiled at the small kiss she pressed there. 

They laid down, quietly resting. The room was dark, but mostly because they always kept the curtains drawn. It was safer that way. Wanda didn’t have to worry about anyone on the street accidentally looking up. And Vision didn’t have to worry about trying to convince her that her powers weren’t needed around the home. 

Just as Vision was beginning to think that maybe Wanda had fallen asleep, she propped herself up on one elbow, hair falling over her shoulder and tickling his cheek. 

“What about… what about the stone?”

Vision unconsciously reached up to touch the stone that was inset in his forehead. “What about it?”

Wanda looked at it, and then met his eyes. “My powers come from another stone. Perhaps you are able to cloak yourself, when you need it.”

Vision’s brow furrowed as he considered her point. He hummed and closed his eyes, seeming to concentrate. There were several minutes of silence and then his face started to wobble, like a veil was passing over it. Slowly, very slowly, the veil started to stick, looking more and more like a human face. 

Wanda smiled wide, taking his hands and squeezing them. “You’re doing it!” she whispered. “Vis, you’re doing great.”

Another few moments passed once the face settled, his eyes still closed as he tried to keep it in place. Eventually, he opened his eyes, and he smiled, looking a little strained, but just as happy as Wanda. She giggled and leaned in to kiss him softly. 

“Wonderful!”

Vision’s new face blushed and short-circuited, but Wanda didn’t care. She grinned and kissed him again.   
“I take it, it worked?” Vision asked, eventually, grinning back. 

“Yes! Oh, it was wonderful. So handsome, Vis.” She kissed his cheek. “You’ll have to practice, of course, but it worked!”

Vision smiled and just pulled her close, kissing her forehead. “I’m glad.” He started to gently pet her hair, “Rest, darling.”

She sighed, and curled up against him, closing her eyes and letting herself rest.


	27. “Don’t look at me like that–like this is all my fault.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve autopilots on missions sometimes, and it doesn't always end well.

Steve shivered and pulled his blanket tighter around himself. The water hadn’t been particularly icy, or anywhere near freezing, really. But it was summer, and the city was much, much warmer than the river. So when Steve was dumped into it during a battle, the difference was a shock, and he hadn’t stopped shuddering since Tony had pulled him out. Even now, on his own couch, with the heat turned up too much and several blankets wrapped around himself, he couldn’t stop. He picked up the mug of hot tea he’d set aside, and just held it in his lap, keeping his hands tight around it. 

The elevator doors to his floor opened, and he sighed, shivering again, not even needing to turn to know who had walked in. Everyone else had checked up on him. 

Bucky walked around the couch, standing in front of Steve with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. He stared into Steve’s eyes, not looking away as his jaw slowly tightened, his raised eyebrow lowering to join the other in a frown the longer Steve stayed silent. Slowly, Steve shrunk back under his gaze, shivering a little, still, even as his face heated in embarrassment. 

“S-Stop,” he murmured, ducking his head. “Don’t look at me like that - like this is all my fault.” He shivered again, trying hard not to, and grimaced when he heard Bucky sigh. 

“You’re a stupid punk,” he muttered, still staring down at Steve. “You know how you get when temperatures drop. You have to be more careful.”

“It was the middle of a fight,” Steve shot back indignantly. “How was I supposed to know where that thing would toss me?”

Bucky cuffed the side of Steve’s head, gently, with his flesh hand. “You’re the master tactician, you tell me.”

Steve frowned and curled his knees up to his chest, “Some things can’t be avoided. I didn’t… I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

There was silence for a few moments, and then Bucky sighed again, sitting next to Steve. He gently took the younger man’s tea and set it on the table before wrapping his arms around him and gathering him close. “I know you didn’t try, Stevie. But you gotta be more conscious of it. OK?”

Steve shivered and curled up close to Bucky, tucking his head under the man’s chin, against his chest. He curled his body against Bucky’s side and pulled the blankets tighter around himself, seeking the kind of warmth only body heat could offer. “OK, Buck… I-I’ll try.”

That was often his promise. He would try. He’d give it a shot. It didn’t always become habit, and he didn’t always try it more than once. But as Bucky held his shivering friend closer, he made his own silent promise to help Steve try, and to help him try until he succeeded. He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of Steve’s head, sighing at the dampness he sound there, despite Steve’s shivering. 

“Thank you, Stevie,” he murmured, hugging him as close as he could manage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who's interested, I've got an Endgame "who would you rather survive" bracket going on my Instagram story. If you want to participate, follow me at katrobey95


End file.
